The doctor said you wrote. Waving a white flag, naturally. Then there was also the horse. Ann Veronica’s desire to laugh unrestrainedly was checked by the tremendous earnestness of his expression. It was less will than education. She could have traded it for gold nuggets and lived like a queen for a few weeks, but she did not. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night.
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